


The Waiting

by FalovesPa



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, put that thing back where it came from or so help me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-17 00:04:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1366663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalovesPa/pseuds/FalovesPa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You've just given birth to your sixth child with Thorin, and already you're counting down when you can make love again. You crazy kids.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Waiting

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [#689](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/41959) by Thorinoakenshieldconfessions blog. 



> This is also posted on my supercoolkitty blog, where there are links within the story to previous, related fics (conceptions, births, etc).

The newest addition to your family is asleep at your breast, full, content and angelic. Thorin sits beside you on the edge of the bed and gently runs his fingers over the baby’s tuft of black hair, then leans down and kisses him on the forehead before placing one on your lips and moving on to your neck.

You close your eyes and enjoy the feel of his lips against your sensitive skin, wondering how in the world it is even possible to be so aroused after ten hours in labor.

He continues kissing your neck for a few seconds more, then peers at you pitifully, about to pose the same question he’s asked after the birth of each of his children.

“Six weeks?”

Of course, you play along, and stick out your lower lip. Yes, it would be more than a month before you could fully enjoy each other sexually again. For two people who made love as often and as intensely as you did, this was always the most difficult stretch of time.

“I will begin counting down right now,” he says, touching his hand to your cheek.

“You know there are other things I can do for you – a bit later, of course,” you say, grinning. “I did just have your sixth – and final — child.”

There is emphasis on the word “final.”

You expect him to protest just a bit, because he loves being a father, but you see it in his blue eyes: he agrees with you. Your family — six children in nine years – is complete.

The oldest, feisty and clever Lillian, was conceived after the heartbreak of losing the baby you made on your wedding night.

You thought your soul would never heal after your miscarriage. But several weeks later, on a clear, cool, starry night, the grief lifted, and you felt desire for your husband return like a rushing wave.

Nicknamed Lily, your only daughter entered this world in a rush, her father delivering her in a flower-adorned field.

Sweet Thror, after Thorin’s grandfather, was created after a night of merriment at a summer festival in Dale, which included the drinking of much good wine, followed by the shedding of all clothes as soon as you returned to your chamber.

When torrential rains forced the cancellation of an early-morning hunting trip, Thorin returned to your side in bed for a different type of hunt – the best kind, giving you Thrain, named for Thorin’s father.

But Thrain arrived too early, underweight and sickly. Though no one expected him to live past the first 24 hours, you held the child in your arms all day and night, crying and praying and singing life into him, willing him to live to see another day, and another, and now he was the strongest of them all.

On your next wedding anniversary, you were stuck in bed after twisting your ankle. Thorin was massaging your leg, and then he was kissing it, and the kisses traveled up your thigh, and soon he was taking off his trousers…

The twins — rambunctious Frerin, so-named for Thorin’s fallen brother, and shy Rowan, named in honor of your father — were the result of that anniversary celebration.

And last, there was beautiful Kieran cradled in your arms. After seeing this baby’s face and hearing his name in a dream, you roused Thorin from his sleep and savagely made love to him, determined to make the child you envisioned a reality.

And now here he is, sleeping deeply, oblivious to his loving parents, or that his older siblings are off playing games with their doting uncles Kili and Fili.

Five weeks, three days, 22 hours, 30 minutes and 14 seconds from now, the two of you will have enough of flirting, dirty talk, passing slaps on the arse, neck nuzzles, playing footsy at dinner, seductive looks across the room. You won’t be able to wait the full six weeks.

You will make sure Kili and Fili are available for extended rounds of hide-and-seek with your little ones and that a nursemaid can tend to Kieran while you and Thorin rediscover each other.

The word “final” will be forgotten.

You will welcome a second daughter, Leslie, her curly brown hair crowning her head, perfect in every way. 

And you will begin your countdown again.


End file.
